


bewitched, bothered, bewildered.

by 1roomdisco



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: 97-liners are such good bros for sicheng, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Awkward Flirting, Character Study, First Crush, Hogsmeade, M/M, Slow Burn, Teen Angst, hey the infamous 97-line group chat is here, lol kun is a muggleborn his fam owns a restaurant at oxford, notice i removed the cute and fluff tags lmao, sicheng is a pureblood AND A QUARTER-VEELA, ten is here to make things spicy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-04-29 01:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14462112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1roomdisco/pseuds/1roomdisco
Summary: As a child, Sicheng never liked a lot of things.Not until the seventh year Hufflepuff, that is.





	1. H.I.M. (He.Is.Magical)

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  * to the anon on tumblr asking for another winkun, holla  
>    
> * house sorting:  
> sicheng + bambam: slytherin  
> jaehyun, yugyeom, mingyu, minghao, jungkook: gryffindor  
> kun + seokmin (DK): hufflepuff  
>   
>  
> 
> * have a great weekend y'all i hope you will enjoy this which has like lotsa NCT inside joke ex: sicheng is... pabo... like kun said on NCT life in seoul................................. and that sicheng's chinese is worst than lucas lmaooo  
>   
> 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As a child, Sicheng never liked a lot of things.

His older sister was much into the Quidditch World Cup than he was and to this day she’s still an avid fan of Chudley Cannons; he didn’t share a particular fondness towards the family’s owls even though father had given him a Very Important Task to feed Cizennie and Yao twice a day; he whined when he had to help mother in the garden to tend the flowers; reading was such a bore and music was just so, so; and his parents finally accepted the fact that their youngest son preferred to demolish the food rather than mastering the art of cooking or baking in the kitchen after Sicheng got caught wandering aimlessly around Loch Ness where he was supposed to take his weekly cooking and baking lesson.

At Hogwarts, Sicheng got sorted to Slytherin. His older sister was in Gryffindor, three years ahead, and she checked up on him from time to time. They stood out together because of their family status and their above average physical features; his older sister collected a number of broken hearts because she liked the attention, but Sicheng? Not so much.

Not until the seventh year Hufflepuff, that is.

 

* * *

 

It’s unnerving, in a way.

Sicheng is not a very studious person, he barely gets by thanks to Jaehyun, the Gryffindor’s Seeker star, who made it his personal mission to be Sicheng’s good (best) friend ever since they got into the same compartment five summers ago. What Sicheng is currently feeling requires heavy stuffs like obtaining information, storing them in his pretty little head, and making them useful in the long run when he’s brave enough to approach H.I.M.

He. Is. Magical.

The seventh year Muggle-born Hufflepuff Head Boy, Qian Kun.

The one who doesn’t get affected by Sicheng’s quarter-veela charm.

Jaehyun first noticed Sicheng’s unusual fidgeting behavior during the Great Feast, in which Sicheng would usually just concentrate on the food before him. But a couple of weeks ago, Sicheng had actually looked like he was looking for someone among the seas of students, his eyes worked hard as his head scanned the Great Hall. When their eyes met from across the room, Jaehyun raised his eyebrows and mouthed _‘what?’_ —but Sicheng just scrunched his nose.

“So, what do we got so far?” Jaehyun whispers, because God knows ever since he went shirtless, accidentally, at the last Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw Quidditch match at the end of fifth year the number of girls ogling him have increased. Him and Sicheng being best friends don’t really help. Especially not with Bambam, Yugyeom, and Jungkook currently enjoying the last of the summer breeze by the Great Lake with them.

Anyway.

“Are we talking about H.I.M.?” Bambam asks, popping out his favorite Muggle lollipop from his mouth; it’s red and transparent, cherry flavored. He went to London every summer and brought back a huge bag with him at the start of the year and everyone is welcomed to have some. To his left, Yugyeom is humming.

“Mingyu and Minghao are friends with a sixth year Hufflepuff, right? Seokmin? Maybe we can ask Seokmin about H.I.M.,” he pauses, grins, “oh, right! Isn’t he the one who got a crush on Jaehyunnie? Jaehyun should do it, then!” Mingyu and Minghao are another sixth year Gryffindors and they’re currently struggling in Potions class.

Jungkook is raising a palm for a high five, but Jaehyun just shoves him off.

Sicheng crosses his arms. He doesn’t think he wants to work that _hard_ just to try to get close to H.I.M. and this Seokmin guy is really Jaehyun’s biggest fanboy if he’s ever seen one. The shriek Seokmin made when Jaehyun went shirtless last May was _legendary_.

“Maybe you should, Jaehyun-ah,” he mumbles, puffing out his cheeks. Jaehyun would get the information needed easily through Seokmin.

Jaehyun smiles, rolling the pipes of his trousers until his porcelain white calves are showing. “Or _maybe_ you should just try to talk to him like you usually talk to us, Sicheng-ah.”

Bambam says, his tone easy, “No offense, but I can’t understand Sicheng sometimes.”

“It’s his Scotland accent, isn’t it?” Yugyeom pipes in.

“Minghao is from Glasgow but I understand him just fine,” Jungkook adds innocently.

“Guys…”

“Sorry, Sicheng, just saying.”

“No problem,” Sicheng shrugs, sniffing, knowing it too well his accent and his braces are quite his downfall, which is why he: a) is glad that Jaehyun approached him first and stuck around, even bringing more good friends, b) relies on his quarter-veela charm whenever he has to function in any social situation, and c) is paranoid that he will make a mess because H.I.M. isn’t affected by his greatest weapon, being Muggle-born and all.

“But for real, though,” Bambam speaks up, more invested now, “what’s his deal again? I just know that he’s a Muggle-born.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “He made Sicheng _feel_ things, more like.”

Yugyeom and Jungkook are whistling.

“That’s a first,” Jungkook comments, loosening his red and gold tie, leaning down and resting his head on his folded arms.

“I’m in,” Yugyeom grins, “I can’t miss our Sichengie’s blooming first love story.”

“Me too, glad to be at your service,” Bambam smacks his lips and puts the lollipop’s stick into his shirt’s pocket. “A bit of the background, please?”

“Thanks, it’s not a big deal, really.” Sicheng sniffs again, scratching his chin even though it’s not itchy. He frowns.

“Wait, no. I’m not in love with him or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Bambam snorts, but it’s without malice. He pats Sicheng’s cheeks and encourages him to continue.

 

* * *

 

As a child, Sicheng never liked a lot of things.

Fortunately, he’s not a picky eater. What’s his favorite food? Everything. He likes them savory and sweet and fatty. He’s got a strong stomach, he can digest anything.

He met Kun at the Chinese restaurant Kun’s family owned for generations, located at the busy Muggle’s Oxford Chinatown, because Sicheng’s father had a business with the University of Oxford’s rep regarding their impressive library that seemed to hold a trace of magical power ever since the north wing was renovated or whatever.

On their last night staying at a very cozy little cottage they rented for two weeks, Sicheng wandered around the Chinatown alone. Having had authentic Indian food earlier, he wanted something cold and sweet. His mother had reminded him to bring Muggle’s currency, but in the end Sicheng didn’t need to spend any.

He walked the busy area, scanning the festivities and the glaring red lanterns and lamps. He couldn’t read the Chinese characters written everywhere; mother had tried to teach him ever since he said his first word, but gave up when Sicheng failed to pronounce something as simple as _my name is_.

Sicheng jutted out his bottom lip. It’s not his fault, nor mother’s. Professor Wallaby, Slytherin’s Head of House, gave him an address to a speech healer that could help him become more understandable.

Of course Sicheng Incendio-d the heck out of that address. He didn’t even remember the healer’s name.

He was passing an apothecary when something yellow and black caught his eyes. It’s a sign of yet another family restaurant, except that Sicheng was pretty sure the color combination was familiar to him.

And the subtly drawn badger mascot smiling—oh now it’s winking at Sicheng!

Very little thing could make Sicheng intrigued. He sped up towards the bustling place in his very cool Muggle sneakers, named after an animal or something, and when he’s inside, he could feel the hints of magic everywhere. Magic was forbidden in the Muggle world, so the magical energy was only present in the form of instant familiarity, like everything felt right again.

He jumped a little when someone greeted him cheerfully in Chinese, and then, in crystal clear English,

“Dong Sicheng, right?”

Sicheng blinked. There stood a boy around his height with black hair. His Muggle clothing looked cool on him; a simple white t-shirt with a pair of black cotton shorts and sand-dulls or whatever. It’s nothing of importance, but Sicheng noticed that his toes were clean. His apron was yellow with a front pocket that had the badger logo on it. He’s holding an empty tray. His eyes, Sicheng swore, were _sparkling_ and his nose looked cute.

Sicheng nodded and bowed. “Ah, yes,” he mumbled, blinkblinkblinked again.

The boy asked, quietly, “Slytherin?”

“Yes, uh. And you are?” Sicheng almost blurted out ‘Sir’ because his tongue was tied. It’s probably the shock of finding out a fellow wizard in a Muggle world? All his friends were pure-blood. He didn’t know anyone who wasn’t one.

The boy laughed, and uh. Oh. He’s got dimples on both of his full cheeks. Deep, but not as deep as Jaehyun’s.

“Qian Kun,” the boy said, offering his hand. When Sicheng grasped it, his blood sang with something that felt incredibly good—so, so _good_ that Sicheng staggered a little bit.

Kun didn’t even blink as he leaned closer to whisper, “Hufflepuff. Seventh year. Nice to meet you.”

“Hello,” Sicheng said, unhelpfully. “H-how do you know me?”

“Good one, mate. You’re _famous_.” Kun sent him a wink and Sicheng almost fell down, face first, to the squeaky clean floor right there and then. Thankfully he was still grasping Kun’s hand.

Kun felt the jerk and let go. He spread one arm, his smile getting wider. “Welcome! Our family restaurant has been around for more than one century. Would you like to have our house specialty?”

A lady yelled, “Kun, _bao bei_ , get your friend a table, please!”

“ _’Bao bei’_?” Sicheng squeaked as he’s being ushered to a table for two near the entrance. Kun looked to be contemplating something before he sat down in front of Sicheng, still smiling.

“It’s a nickname,” he answered, scrunching his nose in embarrassment. “You’re of Chinese descent, right? You know what it means.”

Sicheng didn’t.

“What brought you to Oxford?” Kun asked after Sicheng chewed his bottom lip nervously.

“Father had to check the Oxford’s university library or something,” Sicheng answered automatically. He fiddled with his fingers on his lap.

“I heard the news, too bad I couldn’t help,” Kun said, “not yet. Ha ha ha! Hey, do you want anything? It’s on the house.”

“ _’On the house’_?” Sicheng squeaked, _again_ , and he wished he wasn’t this idiotic. Why didn’t his veela charm work on the older boy? At least he could minimize his awkward response to anything Kun said or did!

“Well, I don’t know the magical term for it but it means you can have anything for free,” Kun cheered, “lemme get the menu.”

Sicheng was full. He chose a cold drink called boba milk tea and Kun served it in a plastic cup. The lid was plastered (?) and it had the same yellow and black badger on it. The straw was bigger and wider than the one Sicheng used to drink Coca Cola.

It was good; just cold milk with a strong but pleasant tea aftertaste. When Sicheng got to the tapioca balls, his eyes went wide. They’re so chewy and tasted like caramel!

Kun got him something else; a plateful of chicken wings glazed in thick, red sauce and honey mayonnaise dipping. He told Sicheng that it was his newest recipe, like, he made it because he was curious whether Coca Cola would taste good with chicken or not. Upon the first bite, Sicheng let out a sound that startled both Kun and himself and probably two elderly sitting next to them. It was heavenly!

“Thanks!” Kun chuckled, poking one before taking it. “Hopefully it will be a bestseller.”

Sicheng licked the fiery and fizzy hot sauce off his fingers. “Are you going to be a cook after graduating?” he asked, glad that he didn’t stutter.

“Maybe in later years, I want to work at the Ministry of Magic first.”

“My father works there.”

Kun smiled.

Did Sicheng say something wrong why did he smile like that?!

“Stay still,” Kun said, gently, reaching one hand out towards Sicheng’s face and then there’s a calloused thumb pressing against the corner of Sicheng’s lips, smelling like spices and the bakery, if that’s even possible, and anything else that Kun said on the next five minutes got tuned out by how loud Sicheng’s heartbeats was.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. A Competition?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Kun visits a friend.  
> Sicheng follows him.  
>   
>   
> 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> tuesday
> 
> jaehyun gave me this leather notebook. said it’d be good for me to write down what i’m feeling for him. he taught me inkvisibility charm, supposedly only i can read what i’m writing. today is tuesday. him got an owl. very beautiful, white like snow, gold flecks and golden eyes. him gave it a nibble i don’t know what. the letter seemed good because him was grinning wide the whole time he read it.
> 
> i want to talk to him.
> 
>  
> 
> *
> 
>  
> 
> wednesday
> 
> no owl for him. i smuggled two pieces of sweet potato pie to eat during charms class. him caught my eyes as i drank my orange juice and waved at me. i almost choked but i didn’t. i nodded at him. i hope i smiled at him.

 

Sicheng thinks what he writes about how he feels for H.I.M. isn’t translated very well into words. Then again, he’s never been good at writing proses, unlike his older sister or Jungkook—who had offered to write a love letter for H.I.M., just because Sicheng has spectacularly stuttered _h-hi_ when H.I.M. greeted him at the Great Hall last Thursday, thus Jaehyun coming up with the daily note-taking idea. It’s not a diary, Sicheng insisted to Jaehyun, because he’s not his older sister. And it’s intentional, all the lowercase. Everything is his own, he can do whatever he wants.

“Are you ready?” Bambam asks, poking his head into their shared room. Their other roommates are already leaving. “I’m starving.”

“Just a moment,” Sicheng answers in a hurry, muttering the Inkvisibility charm, pushing the leather notebook under his bed and shrugging on his robe. Bambam is checking his newly dyed burgundy red hair on a small pocket mirror when Sicheng joins him.

“Lisa?” Sicheng asks, mentioning the name of their fellow sixth year Slytherin, also Bambam's Muggle cousin.

“Yeah, god bless Muggle hair dye.” Bambam grins, pocketing the small mirror in his robe. He leads the way out of the dungeon, and asks, “Think Mister Leeteuk would let us buy a pint of Firewhisky for like, the eight of us?”

“Eight?” Sicheng frowns.

Bambam nods. “Seokmin is probably going to hang out with us tomorrow. I think Jaehyun invited him yesterday? You were in Herbology.”

Ah. Right. This weekend is Hogsmeade week, right before the arrival of both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons delegations for the big event. Anyway he tried Firewhisky before, his older sister sneaked a bottle into her room last Christmas and she gave Sicheng two fingers tall in a tiny glass and Sicheng felt nothing. Just a buzzing in the back of his head that was gone with two chocolate frogs after. He’s more interested to raid Honeydukes. He’s going to list down the sweets and chocolates he will buy tomorrow. One of the common traits of a veela’s descendant is their love for everything sweet, and Sicheng is no exception.

“I’ll pass,” Sicheng says, sniffing the air. He wants sausages for breakfast. Lots of them. “I tried it with my older sister. Didn’t feel anything.”

“Of course you’d have a high alcohol tolerance,” Bambam fakes his tearing up, “o, we’re just mere mortal!”

“I’m not immortal.”

“ _You’re_ quarter-veela. You’ll probably outlive the rest of us, looking as pretty as twenty-five when you’re like, eighty-seven.”

“Thanks, I guess?”

“Just stating the truth, love.”

The Great Hall is already packed. They sit next to seventh year Doyoung who greets them with a professional, upperclassman smile. Sicheng likes Doyoung, he’s been very helpful since the beginning, and Sicheng is secretly enjoying Jaehyun’s blatant attempt to be _funny_ whenever Doyoung happens to have activities near them.

“Good morning,” Doyoung says, waits for Sicheng and Bambam to answer his greeting before continuing his conversation with Miriam, Slytherin’s Quidditch team captain.

Sicheng dives in straight to get the sausages, hash browns, and some baby tomatoes.

A few minutes in, Bambam whispers, “Oh, look. H.I.M. gets an owl today.”

It’s true. But Sicheng is hungry, so he lets H.I.M. be. Today’s dessert is carrot cake.

“Aren’t you curious at all?” Bambam asks, taking a bite of his turkey sandwich. “I don’t think his family would send letters twice in a week. What if it’s a significant other?”

Sicheng mumbles, “It’s a free country.” The usual reminder that he’s not in love with Kun goes unsaid.

“You know what?” Bambam has the finality in his voice when he reaches for a big slice of carrot cake with his fork. “I’ll track it down. Spencer owed me something and he loves owl-watching. Weird hobby, but I think it will come in handy for our H.I.M. situation.”

 

 

> thursday
> 
> him got another owl. the same owl. bambam said he noticed as well. currently he’s waiting for any information about the snowy owl’s owner. of course i’m curious.

 

* * *

 

 

> friday
> 
> no owl today. mother sent me extra galleons for hogsmeade. i wonder if him is going?

 

* * *

 

Sicheng lets Bambam style his hair. He doesn’t want it too greasy and stiff, and Bambam delivers. His strawberry blond hair is still looking soft to the touch, but it’s in tact, showcasing his forehead with just a bit of fringe curling on top of his left eyebrow.

Seokmin told Mingyu who told Bambam that H.I.M. is going to Hogsmeade today. Sicheng doesn’t know what he wants to accomplish with the fact, but are the ants crawling underneath his skin called keen anticipation? If so, then Sicheng can’t really say that he hates the feeling; it’s as if his heart and his head aren’t in sync but in a rather good way. His heart feels happiness, but his head is mostly just confused. Sure, he’s happy because he’s going to buy everything in Honeydukes, but somewhere deep in the back of his head he _knows_ it’s not just the promise of endless sweets stash that’s making him… unreasonably giddy.

They agree to meet by the kitchen corridor, because Seokmin promised to get them some garlic breads and apple pies to have while walking to Hogsmeade. No one is saying no to free foods, so here they are, waiting for Seokmin who’s the only one allowed to be in the kitchen since he befriended a house elf. Everyone is looking their best, Hogsmeade is always a good place to meet cute people.

“I forgot to tell you,” Bambam says to Sicheng, but he’s staring at himself on the small pocket mirror. “Spencer found out the snowy owl belongs to a quite powerful family in Hogsmeade. Talk about a coincidence.”

“What snowy owl?” Jaehyun pipes in, swinging one heavy arm around Sicheng’s shoulders.

“H.I.M. got letters from a snowy owl on Tuesday and Thursday,” Bambam explains, squinting to his reflection. “The owner lives in Hogsmeade.”

“We can ask around at the post office,” Jaehyun says, squeezing Sicheng’s shoulders as if to say that he will take care of the matter.

Now everyone is looking at him. Sicheng shakes his head.

“It’s fine.”

Jaehyun hums. “Yeah, but aren’t you curious?”

“I asked him the same thing.” Bambam comments, and he nods at Mingyu who asks _is this about H.I.M.?_

Sicheng clears his throat. “It’s not like my feeling for him is a competition.”

Jaehyun laughs out loud, pressing his cheek to Sicheng’s. “I will still ask while we’re there, you’ll just go to Honeydukes with Minghao and Mingyu.”

Right at that time, Seokmin appears from the kitchen, looking like he wished he was Sicheng.

 

 

 

Honeydukes isn’t that packed, since it’s still quite early. Mingyu and Minghao are collecting chocolate frogs’ cards; they’re too immersed with a new see-through spell they have especially learned for this occasion as Sicheng wanders around on his own.

Sicheng has a basket full of all varieties of chocolates and some liquorice wands. He’s contemplating whether to buy treacle fudge or not when he feels a presence next to him.

“You sure love your sweets.”

It’s H.I.M., in his Hufflepuff robe and some weird, flat-brimmed hat that he wears backward; a tuft of his dark hair is peeking. It looks shorter. Maybe he had a haircut?

“H-hi,” Sicheng stutters again, quite surprised to discover that he and Kun kind of have the same taste. “You too. That’s quite a stash.”

“Oh, these?” Kun lifts up the basket he’s holding. It’s full with chocolates, nougat, and jelly slugs. “They’re for a friend,” he answers with a smile and Sicheng wonders if that’s really necessary? The smile, that is. It looks too good on H.I.M. Who is this friend that can make H.I.M. smile like every day is spring? The left side of Sicheng’s chest feels tight, as if some unlikely force is squeezing it just in time with the realization that Sicheng so badly wants to be _that_ friend who can make Kun smile like every day is spring.

“Wait, you’ve got veela blood in you, right? No wonder!” Kun snaps his fingers, his dimples are showing. “Where are your friends?” he asks, softly, and Sicheng hopes he’s managed to tame his expression.

“Here and there,” Sicheng answers, clutching the basket tighter, shifting on his feet because this is too close. Kun is standing too close. “Are you alone?”

Kun takes a treacle fudge off the shelf, reading the label. “I just have some errand then I’m joining my friends at The Three Broomsticks,” he says, putting the treat in the basket. He makes a face when he sees the clock by the register. “I have to get going. Catch you later?”

Sicheng nods, holding his breath as Kun walks pass because he doesn’t want the older boy to detect his nervousness or something. Sicheng takes the same brand of treacle fudge from the shelf, reads the label, the nutrition facts, and waves back to Kun when Kun calls his name before opening the shop’s door and disappearing from Sicheng’s sight.

Sicheng jumps when Mingyu asks,

“Hey, wasn’t that H.I.M.? What did you guys talk about?”

Minghao is wriggling his eyebrows at him, biting on a licorice wand.

As a child, Sicheng was quite passive. He’d just follow his older sister everywhere and did what he was told. When he wanted something, he would easily obtain it, mostly thanks to father, mother, and his older sister.

But Kun is not something and his family is not here.

“Can you check these out for me?” he hands over his basket to Mingyu, not waiting for Mingyu to actually take a hold of it. He pats his robe for his pouch. “Here. Should be enough galleons for everything.”

Minghao takes the pouch. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Just—“ Sicheng makes a wild gesture and dashes off Honeydukes, catching a glimpse of Kun’s weird hat at the corner street where the post office is located. Sicheng breaks into a run.

He can’t remember the last time he’s working for what he wants.

Kun is heading deeper into Hogsmeade’s residential area. He takes a lot of turns, humming a song Sicheng has never heard before. They reach the end of a street called Solitaire where the houses are huge with tall black gates and lush green garden. Kun is walking straight to the biggest house of the street, easily a very well-maintained mansion that would make mother weep with all those colorful flower bushes and wudyacallit. There’s a petite figure running to the black gates, barefooted, his ash grey hair is falling to his dark eyes as he smiles prettily at Kun, and even from the distance, as Sicheng hides behind a wall of house number 127, Sicheng can hear the melodious,

“Bao bei!”

“Hullo, Tennie,” Kun says, happily, and so Sicheng’s heart hurts.

The black gates are swung open with a wave of Kun’s friend hand, and then they’re hugging briefly. Their contrasting look is such a sight; Kun with his black everything and his friend’s gleaming silver, giving a rainbow-ish illusion shirt and pale mint green pants. What was that Bambam said a couple of days ago? ‘Significant other’?

Right. Sicheng blinks, bailing his fists.

From this distance, Sicheng can hear them just fine. They’re sitting on a bamboo mat that Kun’s friend Accio’d from his house with just a wave of his hand. Soon, a house elf dressed in a very clean attire appears with a tray full with tea cups and pot, fruits, cakes, and biscuits.

Kun’s friend is squealing when Kun gives him the sweets, wrapping his skinny arms around Kun’s and giggling when Kun puts the flat-brimmed hat to his head.

It’s true. Kun had a haircut. He didn’t yesterday. This friend must be so special.

“What is this?” the boy asks, adjusting the hat so it fits him better. Sicheng wonders if he’d look good in that as well.

“A Muggle fashion,” Kun answers, looking proud of himself.

“For me?”

“Of course.”

Sicheng has a dawning horror that he’s going to _cry_ if Kun’s friend is planting a kiss or two on Kun—but thankfully the boy is just pinching Kun’s dimpled cheeks.

They talk about Kun’s study, mostly, and Sicheng finds out Kun’s friend name; Ten, or Tennie, as Kun pleasantly calls him. Ten seems so eager to listen to Kun’s progress on overcoming his boggart, his O.W.L. scores, and a very difficult potion that he is working on with his friend from Slytherin, Doyoung.

Sicheng listens to it all, occasionally stealing a peek. They’re either eating or drinking and when Kun takes Ten’s hand as he asks, “You will come, right, Tennie?”—Sicheng wishes he never wanted Kun in the first place.

Ten smiles, his dark eyes sparkling. “Absolutely, wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Sicheng feels it in his bones. The aching. The following sting in the back of his eyes. He’s got no idea where they’re going, but the way Kun is smiling so softly at Ten is enough to crush whatever it is that he’s genuinely felt for the first time ever.

He takes a deep, rather loud breath, and makes a turn.

A wrong move, really, because then he hears Kun addressing him,

“Sicheng! Are you lost?”

 

_Say yes._

 

Sicheng blinks. There’s a voice in his head that’s not his.

_Say yes, you’re lost._

 

“Yes,” Sicheng’s mouth is moving before he even knows it, but he _knows_ he doesn’t like it. He turns back to reveal himself to Kun and Ten and he gives Ten a quick, sharp glance, responded by a sweet smile that doesn’t settle right in Sicheng’s stomach.

“Oh, no,” Kun looks at Ten, probably asking for permission, and Ten nods. “Come here, let’s have tea a bit then we’ll get back to The Broomsticks together.”

Sicheng hesitates.

 

_Come here, I don’t bite._

 

Sicheng doesn’t like how condescending does Ten sound. In his head, he snaps,

 

_Are you going to bite Kun?_

 

Ten is concealing his amusement with his dainty fingers poised over his mouth, again, being a contrast to Kun’s worried expression—and responds,

 

_I might, who knows? But it’s none of your business._

 

* * *

 

 

> sunday
> 
> in my dream, i got to call him bao bei.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>   
>   
>  duN DUN DUN~
> 
>  _what_ is ten, really?
> 
> honestly kun/ten is the new tom & jerry. SM is really fucking up the new NCT life by not including ten lmao imagine the banter. the teasing. the bickering. goddamn. watch me exploiting the canonical facts into fics asfjkskjdflafla.
> 
> what do you guys think? ten seems... so powerful. sicheng feels... teen angst for the first time.  
> i decided to make this into 5 chapters *high five you*
> 
> DO TELL ME WHACHU THINK.  
> 


	3. A Competition.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten doesn’t seem to have to work hard to be H.I.M.’s friend, looking from their eleven-year-old selves laughing merrily.  
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>   
>   
>  * doyoung: literally made a poll about winwin ships, none of the options mentioning kun-ge
> 
> * me: in this essay i will—
> 
> * shoutout to [this pic tbh](https://twitter.com/NCTsmtown/status/1017641650196176897) i'm a real psychic i'm going to make this kun - ten - winwin trio a trendy ship /coughs violently/
> 
> * who's with me?  
>   
>   
> 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

His name is Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, but he goes by Ten, for unknown reasons. His family originated from a tropical country in Southeast Asia, one that Sicheng has heard before but never been, and they first came to England back in the 1600s, mainly because they had to; there was a massive witch-hunting near the capital city, and England welcomed them with open arms.

They were pureblood family, but Ten himself is half-veela.

He’s seventeen years old.

He was a student at Hogwarts until he dropped out by the end of first year.

Sicheng knows all this because he stayed up late in the library, going through old yearbook albums, thinking that he might find some information on such unusual name. Ten was sorted to Slytherin, has always been that beautiful, and there was one moving photograph of him _and_ Kun laughing at something Kun was writing, and they were sitting in the _same_ library, right by the window, the picture was taken without their knowing at all.

The picture felt… real.

Sicheng wants to rip it off the page.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After acknowledging the tiny needles he’s got in the left side of his chest are the feeling of _pain_ , Sicheng goes to look for books explaining about Legilimency.

Then, Occlumency.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Breakfast tastes dull. According to Bambam, Sicheng has been sighing for the –nth time, and it’s only quarter past eight.

“It’s nothing,” Sicheng mumbles, slicing assorted sausages and potato wedges on his plate in perfectly symmetrical shapes.

He couldn’t sleep last night after worrying about Kun’s privacy, because there’s no reason for Ten _not_ _to_ read Kun’s mind like he did to Sicheng, easily, even easier than the knife doing its job on Sicheng’s food. Like, if they have been friends since first year, there is no way that Ten hasn’t been in Kun’s mind. The thought didn’t sit well with Sicheng throughout the night, probably because Sicheng is suspicious that Ten had misused his power on Kun. It’s possible, right?

Sicheng doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s scared of the half-veela; mostly of their shared traits and how much more powerful Ten is.

How Ten doesn’t seem to have to work hard to be H.I.M.’s friend, looking from their eleven-year-old selves laughing merrily.

Next to him, Bambam is making a sound that’s similar to a laugh and a snort. “Absolutely,” he says, and then, “you know that I found out who loverboy’s loverboy is, right?”

 _I did, too,_ but neither Sicheng nor Bambam is telepathic.

“Yeah?” he asks instead, clearing his throat, scooting closer.

“Yeah,” Bambam gets the message. He sits until their thighs are aligned and he lowers his voice. “Basically, H.I.M.’s loverboy could be the most powerful wizard of our generation. His family is from Thailand, just like me, but my family never spoke about his because, like, they’re legends themselves, you know? They paved our way to safety here in United Kingdom.”

Right. Thailand. Just like Bambam and Lisa. Sicheng hates himself for forgetting.

“Is it bad?” Sicheng whispers, looking straight to a pile of pastries in front of him. The conversation happening around the Great Hall serves as a pleasant buzz. It’s not exactly calming, but. You know.

“It depends,” Bambam shakes his head, “Ten—that’s his name, by the way. Like, you know my birth name is hard to pronounce? Bambam is my everyday name, and Ten is his. He got into Hogwarts, sorted to our house, even, I mean, obviously, but he didn’t continue from his second year. He’s just too powerful, in all sense of the word. He excelled in every subjects, already did wandless magic even before he studied here. Back then he could read minds, apparate, _and_ float in the air.”

As if there’s an invisible string maneuvering their heads, both Sicheng and Bambam look up to where Kun is sitting on the Hufflepuff table, eating cereal and reading the Daily Prophet.

“I wonder how could they become friends,” Bambam voices out the question Sicheng meant to ask but not knowing to whom. He can’t just ask that to Kun himself, can he?

“Anyway, what’s more interesting is that he’s half-veela,” Bambam says, still with a hushed tone. “At least you’ve got one point checked. H.I.M. is probably into veela.” That’s clearly a joke, but the tiny needles are back.

“Thanks,” Sicheng mumbles, “I hate it.”

Bambam coos, elbowing his side _hard_.

“Cheer up! The delegation from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons are coming. Who knows, you might find somebody else even more interesting than H.I.M.,” he quips, “when you do, you _have_ to tell us.”

Sicheng pouts, but manages to finish his breakfast.

 

 

* * *

 

 

At lunch, Jaehyun tells him about what he found out at Hogsmeade post office last Saturday.

“I’ve met him before,” Jaehyun says before taking a sip of his honey lemon tea. He’s on the first stage of flu, his throat is constantly dry and his toes feel cold all the time. They’re sitting on the Gryffindor table. Sicheng wants to give him a hug.

“You did?” he asks, only mildly surprised. Jaehyun’s family is Wales’ one of the wealthiest, and understanding how powerful and influential Ten’s family is from his research and Bambam’s story, well. Of course.

“At a gala my family held two years ago,” Jaehyun nods, “he was so beautiful.”

“He’s half-veela.”

“Oh, you knew already?”

 _I met him, too,_ but, again; neither Sicheng nor Jaehyun is telepathic.

“Bambam told me,” Sicheng answers, quietly. “Tell me more.”

“He used to study in Hogwarts but dropped out on his second year,” Jaehyun sniffs, then coughs. Sicheng waits until Jaehyun is done sipping on a glass of lukewarm water, and he sits closer to him, offering some kind of warmth.

Jaehyun smiles, his dimples showing, and Sicheng scrunches his nose, silently asking him to continue.

“My father has business with Ten’s father,” Jaehyun continues, lowering his voice, “their family is very powerful. Ten is a very gifted young wizard, he dropped out of Hogwarts because his family decided to have him home-schooled. He was way too ahead of his peers. And, uh, possibly dangerous? There was an accident.”

Before Sicheng can ask what is it, Jaehyun says,

“But nobody knows what it was. Seems like the school did a massive practice of Oblivion about it.”

Sicheng stays silent. The tiny needles are back.

He eats what’s left in his creamy chicken soup and reaches for a banana bread for dessert.

“I don’t think he’s H.I.M.’s boyfriend,” Jaehyun says, unprompted, and he sounds like he’s giving Sicheng hope.

Sicheng frowns because what were the terms Bambam used to refer Ten before? Significant other? Loverboy? And now Jaehyun is doing it as well, referring to Ten like he’s a competition.

“Ah,” Sicheng breathes, smearing cold butter on the banana bread, “it doesn’t matter.”

Jaehyun is giving him a sympathetic look, so soft and caring, but Sicheng is having none of it.

“Stop,” he tells his orange juice, “it’s fine.”

“If you say so,” Jaehyun agrees, going back to his own bowl of creamy chicken soup. “It will be okay. Let’s make a lot of friends from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons later on.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sicheng asks father about it because father works at the Ministry of Magic.

Father says there’s nothing to tell, really, their family is one of the most powerful in the whole United Kingdom, one was married to a prominent figure in veela community and had two children, both home-schooled, and the other sibling owns several Quidditch teams— _oh, wait, your sister’s favorite? Chudley Cannons? One of them is the owner._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

> friday
> 
> the other schools are here for triwizard. i think about what jaehyun said to me a lot. there are a couple of girls who have veela blood in them from that one school. him didn’t look like he’s interested?
> 
> *
> 
> sunday
> 
> did my eyes deceive me but why did him put his name in the goblet of fire?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  p.s. if yOU REALIZE THIS FIC LEGIT WILL HAVE 10 CHAPTERS I GUESS
> 
> what a slow burn
> 
> kun/ten is real y'all but kun/winwin is the OG
> 
> don't forget to kudos and comments ajksdjkf thank you  
> 


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